The zephyr blows
when you kiss me
and the ice
immediately goes away.
How many tears
that hurt
and burn longings
without you.
For all the love it has
my spoilt heart
will give up
fleeing.
Soaked with love
I almost touch you
and, bowed,
I want that kiss.
My sweet beauty
I beg you
don't make me suffer
and come here.
Come to me
so that holds
and doesn't break
that beautiful thread.
That beautiful thread
which will never
dim
the azure of life.
30.11.'14
In Italian, the original language of the poem, each strophe is a pangram, because it contains all the letters of its alphabet.